It's been a trend on my facebook lately, everyone reciting their lists of thankfulness. And in this dark time in our country's history, it is so refreshing to see people reflect on what they have-- the true depth of their happiness.

Now it's my turn.

I'm going to skip the obvious, which are Bono, my Hubby and children and family, our health and happiness, blaa, blaa, blaa. Everyone's thankful for that crap.

Instead, I'd like to focus on the things most people don't even think about.

Like:

*High-thread-count sheets. Every night when I curl up into my bed, I thank the Lord above for the inventor of high-thread-count sheets. Maybe it's not exactly what I should be praying about, but I don't want the Lord to think I'm ungrateful. We told our friends Tim and Michelle about high-thread-count sheets and they were all, "Whatever, Fancy Nancys." Buuut . . . . they gave it a shot and now Tim is all, "Damn you for turning me onto high-thread-count sheets. Now, I can't ever go back to the economical yet scratchy Bed in a Bag."

*Hysterectomies - specifically mine. Hysterectomies are little party favors from the medical community. It's like the docs are saying, "Thanks for stopping by and making some of our house payments with those 3 kids you chose to bring into the world. Now, here's what we're going to do for you--we're going to take out your tired womb." God Bless the gynecologists who have provided this jingly joyful service to women all over the world.

*The man whose running schedule intersects with my school route every morning. His really thick shock of hair and his preference for running shirtless, thereby displaying his nicely sculpted pecs, are as yummy as my morning cup of coffee. And I haven't even mentioned his cut-just-right running shorts. Good Morning Running Man!

*Certain aspects of misogyny. Specifically, the belief my Hubby holds that since he is the man, when we are in a car together, he should drive. His driving misogyny holds no rhyme or reason. Like Dustin Hoffman, I am an excellent driver, and I repeat this phrase in a Rain Man-like way, over and over to him when he insists on taking the wheel like the man he is. But, I do so enjoy that macho belief of his when it's late at night and we're driving that long stretch of hours from the Mouse World and I am sleeping off a day of fun and he is driving--because he's the man.

*Profanity. Because I would not be able to be an excellent driver without it.

*Satellite Radio. It's like cable for the radio. My ears feel like they're going to combust when I'm forced to listen to the regular radio with the fast talking car announcer and the tired playlists of the same 10 songs. I'm especially grateful to the Alternative Nation channel. I want to kiss my radio when I'm on that station.

*The Limousines and their fabulous song, "Very Busy People". Because, that song, this morning, gave me the patience to drive behind the gentleman whose last car was most certainly a Model T. He was ripping down the no-passing, single lane road at a strong 20 mph. The speed limit was 45.

*My Hubby's feminine side. He is a manly man who likes good food, good wine and loves to cook. He also loves to shop for kitchen things, candles and high-thread-count sheets. I love that part of him.

*Fried Bologna Sandwiches. The other day, I noticed the sign on my neighborhood Hardee's grease cafe. It said, "We now have fried bologna sandwiches." And I thought, Dear Mother of All Things Holy. Who eats such vile crap? I snapped a picture with my phone, which I am unable to download, because the phone is new and I am a technical moron. I showed the picture to a group of my friends the other day, still in complete disbelief that this restaurant was advertising this, clearly proud of the sick crap they're shoveling down our throats. Every darn one of my friends was all, "I love fried bologna sandwiches!" And now, they all have a plan to go have breakfast together at the Hardees and eat fried bologna sandwiches. And I'm thinking, this is why I love America! Because you have the right to eat shit for food.

*My eyeliner. Because it was lost and I was majorly bummed because I'd just bought it and then I was looking for a pen in the black hole that is my car console and there was my eyeliner! I'm going to thank the Lord for that tonight, when I'm praying about my high-thread-count sheets.

*These hot chocolates and the hand-made marshmallows my sister sent us. The combination of these things is as close to God as you'll ever get.

*Spanx. The best invention since the wheel and Snickers candy bars--thus the need for Spanx.

*Google. Because, search engines have made it so much easier for me to figure out that my dry cough is definitely the first sign of the Ebola virus that will eventually cause me to hemorrhage out my eyes and die a slow, painful death. My hypochondria thanks you, Google.

*The Dung Beetle daughters of mine. Because without their dung mess, I'd be out of a job and then I'd have to *gasp* do something purposeful with my life, like find a job and then I wouldn't be able to google my medical symptoms all day

*Cuban Sandwiches. Here, in this part of the Tropics, we have a heavy Cuban influence in our foods. I thank the Lord for this, too. The best part of this heavenly food is the traditional Cuban sandwich, made on Cuban bread stuffed with roasted spicy pork, ham, swiss cheese, mustard and pickles and never, ever with tomatoes and lettuce. The outside is brushed with honey and butter and then pressed. When done right, it's so insanely delicious, it should be our state symbol.

*Seasonal Yankee candles. Because there's nothing like the smell of a puppy, but I definitely don't want my house to smell like puppy.

*The phone set my hubby bought with 5 phones. Because on an average day, we can count on finding exactly and only 1 of those phones as we race around, while the phone rings endlessly, screaming, "Where are the f#@*g phones?"

*Friends who care enough about me to send Facebook hugs and hearts and snowballs and flowers, even though I never send them back. It's not that I'm selfish and uncaring. It's just I get on that page and buttons are flashing and messages are scrolling, and there are instructions for everything, everywhere and the next thing I know I'm having to find 70 friends to send hearts to or I don't get my one stinkin' heart. I just finally gave up. So . . . thanks friends for all the stuff. I'm too dull-witted to be able to send you anything back. I'm pretty sure it's because of the alcohol my mom drank while pregnant. Not her fault. Every pregnant women had a cocktail in their hand back in those days. No one knew it was bad. And hey, if I was pregnant with my fourth kid and all my other kids were still toddlers, I'd be a-drinking, too.

*Jon and Kate. It was fun, wasn't it?

*Paper towels. Because I am a germaphobe and the thought of cleaning my counters with a sponge freaks me out to undeniable proportions. Sorry, Save the Earth people.

*People who know how to wear fashion. I've always wished in America we had fashion police. I know that goes against what America stands for, kind of like the fried bologna thing, but I would so enlist in the fashion police squad and I would be the fashion cop brought up on brutality charges, that's how seriously angry I get over bad fashion. Here's my latest pet peeve: Straight leg jeans. Just. Don't. Do. It. Ever. There are about three people in the world who can pull off straight-leg jeans and look good. Three. Here's a hint: there's a reason the tag says, super-skinny. Cause, those are the only people who should wear them. Duh! I'm all for celebrating curves, but skin-tight straight-legged jeans on fat-assed people ain't any party I want to attend. And for the Lord Above's sake, if you're a man, FORGET ABOUT IT! No one wants to see that! Are you listening, Jonas Brothers?

*Johnny Depp. I'm not sure what it is about that man, but he is just plain, freakin' hottie-hot, sex on a movie screen. My Hubby asked me to watch a movie the other night. I always try to keep him company, but usually I'm out cold within the first 10 minutes of whatever. But, this night, he popped in Public Enemies with Johnny Depp as John Dillinger. I was riveted. The only time my eyes closed, was when I almost passed out from all the swooning sexiness oozing off our screen. Occasionally, I thank the Lord for Johnny Depp.

*Christmas shopping. Because I haven't done any of it. And it is Dec. 17th and I have to stop blogging and googling and get started.

For these and so many other things I haven't mentioned like-Downy Orchid Allure dryer sheets, the TMZ website, Top Chef's Fabio, goose down pillows, molding hair paste, push-up bras, lizards, candy apples, Purell, my car, blonde hair dye, Craig Ferguson, that couple and their wedding party who danced down the aisle to Chris Brown, pedicures, Santa Claus and just a mazillion other precious, precious things, I am eternally and utterly grateful. How bout you?

Today's Ho-Ho-Ho Download: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" The original by Judy Garland. It's rather a melancholy song, but so sweetly beautiful when sung by the extraordinary Judy Garland. She just had a way of pouring her sad, little heart into all her songs that made them luminescent.

"Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Let your heart be light. Next year all our troubles will be out of sight." For Michelle.

8 comments:

Truly hysterically funny. The best picture of Johnny Depp EVER. I feel like he's looking into my eyes. It is interesting that even this hilarious post managed to make me cry with the last line. You're a sadistic writer for making me weep with every post.

I'm thankful for a friend who are willing to let a gaggle of women invade her house on a Tuesday afternoon, drink her wine, use up all of her valuable laundry-washing hours, make a mess of her kitchen and remind us that the holidays are about traditions like naughty gift exchanges.

I'm thankful for a friend who are willing to let a gaggle of women invade her house on a Tuesday afternoon, drink her wine, use up all of her valuable laundry-washing hours, make a mess of her kitchen and remind us that the holidays are about traditions like naughty gift exchanges.

Okay, WTF is a fried bologna sandwich? I've never even had a bologna sandwich, let ALONE a fried one. The Hardee's chains all died up here in Chicago (no one was sad) and wow. Apparently, I was missing out!

I am thankful for my new printer. And diet Coke. And my friends in the computer who keep me sane. Like you.

This was once of the MOST entertaining posts I've read in quite awhile. Fabulous! I even read EVERY WORD, and I don't usually do that. :)Thanks for sharing, Happy Saturday SITS share day! (or whatever it's called)